


Turns You Into Stone

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Immortal headcanons, Vincent is Immortal, What do Immortals do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: It feels like just yesterday that he died, and yet he knows that isn’t true.
Kudos: 7





	Turns You Into Stone

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea when Death Cab For Cutie’s “To the Ground” was released, then I heard Fleurie’s “Turns You Into Stone” and it had to be written. Both are excellent songs.

It’s night. Or is morning? 

Time is meaningless. 

Time has stretched on so long for Vincent that the road feels like an endless mockery to him. 

He travels—weary, endlessly, searching for life besides him, but there is none. 

Everyone is dead now. The water flows on the valley below. He is the only one on these charred remains, but life has gone on in other ways. Green covers what once was ash. 

Is he really human anymore? 

Maybe he never was. 

He remembers his father’s cold red eyes, the disappointment in them when he killed for the very first time. It had been an accident. Even then, he’d had beasts inside him, though not literal ones. 

The trees grow tall and the weeds cover Midgar and Edge like they are ancient ruins. 

The meteorfall statue has been broken for what feels like eons, quietly melding into the world around it. Vincent visits it and thinks quietly to himself—ah, if that had been the only threat. 

But it wasn’t, was it? 

He’s ageless as the moon now, that beautiful glowing rock in the sky. 

If only Gaia was so absent of life.

But no, the flowers and the trees mock him, living on. 

But there is no new animal life. 

His heart has long since turned to stone. It’s been eons since he used his voice—there’s no point now. He thinks—how long has it been since the last disaster? He can’t fathom even his own time on Gaia.

It feels like just yesterday that he died, and yet he knows that isn’t true. 

He lets Galian roam, Chaos fly. No one is around to point and tell him he’s an unnatural being.

No, now he is as natural as the hewn rock below and the blue sky above. 

And yet, for all his freedom, he still feels like he’s been turned to stone. 

He longs for those days he could have touched another being. Now the only warmth he feels is the gold in his eyes dancing like fire.


End file.
